It was quite by chance that Eponine found herself on the fourth floor. She was bored. Bored of Orc and his stupid conversation: it was like trying to talk to Gueulemer. He was slightly less entertaining than talking to herself. And she was bored of having to mediate between Aunamee and Orc, Montparnasse and Gueulemer, for all she could see. So she had slipped off quietly, avoiding the room of stars where that hateful girl lurked, down and down, until the sparkles had caught her eye. Such jewels.

Eponine had wandered through the corridors quite openly. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't at all bothered by the idea that she might die. She sauntered along, looking at the exhibits and the strange things that were on display. But then she heard voices.

His.

And her own.

Oh God.

She ran. She ran as fast as she could, picking up the tatters of the pricncess dress she had slashed wildly at in a moment of self destructive despair and ran towards the sound of the voices.

And stopped short when she realised that they were there. That He was. She was. All together.

And she had been left alone.

She stopped short, and drew her glass shard from where she tied it against her stomach with Eva's wire. Her expression was sour. She shouldn't be here, but she couldn't leave now.

She hated every single one of them.